Happenstance
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. There was no room for regret that would come later.


Title: Happenstance  
Summary: There was no room for regret; that would come later.  
Characters: John, Teyla.  
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan.  
Rating: T-mild (and I say MILD) M  
Spoilers: Season4

"Teyla." It came out quieter than he'd intended. "I..." he faltered as her glossy eyes caught his and he looked away from her stare. He didn't know what to say - he was pretty sure there wasn't anything _to _say; not for that. "I didn't think you'd want to see me," he murmured awkwardly, shifting his feet beneath him.

A strange sense of déjà vu came over him as she stepped forward into his unprepared arms. He tensed, unsure of what he wanted to do but his arms betrayed his body's desire to stay still as they enveloped her petite frame, still soft from her pregnancy. He could feel her wet tears soaking through his shirt and drenching his chest and he felt a chasm develop there at her pain. He closed his eyes and pulled her tighter against him, inhaling her familiar scent as something tore open inside of him. He hated seeing her in pain, especially when he was helpless to ease it. Sobs ricocheted around the room as he tugged her gently inside the door, blocking them both from the outside world as the two panels slid shut.

He moved his hands aimlessly over her back hoping to soothe her as he whispered words intended to comfort into her ear. He was pretty sure she didn't hear him. Minutes slid by and still he held her, tightening his grip even more as tears of his own built up behind his eyes. No one deserved that. No one deserved the kind of pain that did this, that tore open a person's soul and let everyone see what was going on inside. She sounded so wounded, so much like someone had ripped her heart out that John felt his own chasing after it, trying to find it and bring it back to her as she wailed soundlessly into his chest.

She beat his chest with light punches, her fingers clawing at his shirt, his neck – anything she could reach and he let her; knew that he had to or she would never get over this. Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled back as her tears began to subside, sniffing and glossy eyed. As she looked over his shoulder, John was afraid to break the spell that had fallen between them, afraid that, if he said anything, she'd close off and he'd be unable to reach her, to help her.

He didn't try to remove himself from her grip, not even as her fingers tightened over his arms, the ache in his elbow becoming almost intolerable. She looked so fragile that he was sure any movements would shatter her. He could tell from the tight line of her lips, of the narrow set-ness of her eyes that there was more to come, that she was holding back from him.

"Teyla..." He said her name quietly, not wanting to startle her and slid his hands up and down her bare arms in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

But she shook her head, her eyes fixed on his chest, not willing to make eye contact. He watched her for a second, saw her bloodshot eyes fill with tears once more and he raised a finger to her jaw, tilting her chin up. She resisted as he knew she would and he lifted his other hand and cradled her face between his two hands and she glanced up at him surprised. He licked his lips and tried to say something, hoping that if he opened his mouth the words would simply tumble out. But they didn't and they stayed in what seemed like endless quietude.

The room around them began to darken as the sun dipped below the horizon and still neither of them moved, transfixed by the other, both wondering what it was that was happening, both too lose in their thoughts to really care.

She blinked and a fat drop of salty liquid fell from her lashes and when he looked, he saw her lips trembling; when he felt with his hands instead of his heart he noted the tremors in her jaw, in her fingers as they gripped him in a vice grip. Her lips parted and a sound came out, almost inhuman and her legs buckled, her weight falling to the floor with gravity's aide.

He caught her as she fell and tumbled with her to the ground, fresh tears springing to his eyes; for her, for him, for what had been lost. Just when he thought they'd had enough, that fate had finally given them a moment of peace, this had happened.

And he hadn't been there for her.

He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her into his lap, rocking them both back and forward as her body shook violently against his, as her fists pounded harmlessly against his chest, as she screamed into his neck about how unfair the world was, as her tears flooded his shirt. He was silent, letting her grieve in the way he knew she never would with anyone else.

He'd been happily barbecuing some meat for himself in the garden of the cabin he'd ended up in after a week in California, when Caldwell had beamed him up and escorted him to Atlantis. By the time he'd gotten there, it was all over. When he'd strode into her office, Carter had told him to find her because she wouldn't talk to anyone else.

He hadn't gone. Instead, he'd fumed about his vacation being interrupted for something he was yet to be informed about, even after nagging at Caldwell for days on end on the Daedalus. Then Carter muttered the words that had sent his world into a spiral so dizzying that he'd slumped against the wall, his body sagging as all his energy left him in a single word;

"_What?"_

"_Find her."_

He hadn't gone. Not at first. He'd retreated to his quarters and sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands trying to imagine just what Teyla was going through. He remembered what it felt like when it had happened to him – okay, so when it happened to him it hadn't been _quite _as bad – so he knew at least partially what she must be feeling. It was that resolve that had gotten him up and walking around the midnight empty corridors of Atlantis trying to find her.

But when he had found her, his resolve had fled like the Egyptians during Exodus when he saw her with him. He'd disappeared into the darkness as quickly and as quietly as he'd come. He'd chastised himself all the way back to his quarters for his naivety in thinking that ridiculously _he _was the one to help her. She had her husband now, for that.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"I... he's..."

He jumped slightly at her choked words and he looked down to where her head was still buried in his shoulder, clutching at the material of his shirt with white knuckles, her lips twisted in a silent scream.

"Teyla... it's all right... I'm here." He tucked his head into the crook of her neck as her sobs started once more. "I'm right here."

Later, when she'd exhausted herself she pulled back and he opened his eyes tiredly, pretty sure they'd dozed off. She looked like she hadn't slept in days and he supposed she probably hadn't. He knew that he wouldn't have been able to. He reached a hand up and smoothed a few tangles in her hair, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You know," she whispered and John almost missed the words. "I would have named him John."

John felt something in his chest tighten at that and he nodded, lowering his eyes for a moment before coming back to hers with a slight smile there.

"Thank you." He wasn't sure what he was thanking her for but he knew that it didn't matter, not really. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." She shook her head but didn't say anything and John knew that there was nothing to be said, that it had been said in their silence, in the way she still clung to him, despite the recession of her tears. Seconds turned to minutes and many later, John spoke again, his words surer in voice than they had been in thought. "You can stay here – if you want."

She raised her head from his chest and stared at him – he could feel it, though he didn't look at her. He knew she wouldn't stay but he felt he had to say it.

"You know I cannot."

He convinced himself that the regret he heard there was entirely fabricated by his mind and let her go as she moved to stand up. He cast a glance to his clock by his bedside; she'd been with him for hours. He stood up eventually too as she had begun to shuffle uncomfortably, brushing her hands up and down her trousers.

He moved to touch her arm but stopped half way and clasped his hand into a fist, his lips moving without words coming out. She watched him before covering his fist with her hand and shook her head, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Say nothing." He knew she meant more than right there at that moment. He nodded, licking his lips, casting his eyes elsewhere. She patted his hand once, twice before withdrawing her hand. She moved to the door and he did not follow. When she hesitated before opening the doors, he stepped closer to her but she stepped over the threshold, just out of his reach. She paused again and turned to him, ever so slightly. "Thank you, John."

Her hesitation was his undoing.

"Teyla."

He lurched forward and grabbed her arm, ignoring the sense of déjà vu once more, and pulled her back into his quarters. It didn't really register that she'd come almost willingly. The doors slid shut before he let her go and she took a step back, her shoulders coming into contact with the solid metal doors, her head thudding gently against them. But she didn't look panicked by the way he towered 

over her, his eyes boring down into hers, his palms face down on either side of her head; strong, reassuring, dominant.

"Teyla," he murmured again, his eyes flitting from her eyes to her lips. He could feel her shallow breaths cascading over his lips and he sighed, lowering his eyelids as he leaned closer.

Then he kissed her. Not with gentle, loving lips as he'd expected but with those of a lost lover, devouring, teasing, tasting, _desiring. _He heard her moan into his mouth as she returned the kiss with the same intensity, the same ferocity - the same passion. Her taste was intoxicating and he needed more of it, quickly. Desperately, they grasped at one another, knowing that this was what she needed, what they'd needed for so long and nothing, no-one could stop them now that they'd broken the dam built for too many years.

As he lifted her knee up against his hip, pushing her further into the doors, he knew that he had never felt like this before. He pressed further against her, pressing their bodies together so intimately that there was no doubting as to his intentions. She tore her lips away from his and panted as she stared into him with eyes as obsidian as the sea outside. He licked his lips and drew his hands further up her body, over her hips, her waist, the outline of her breast and her eyelids fluttered shut, her head thudding slightly as it dropped to the metal behind her.

Her top was the first to go, and in a flurry his followed. He pulled her legs around his hips and turned, moving them towards the bed. She was a vision in his arms, her lips swollen from his kiss, her eyes glassy with desire. He kissed her, marked her neck lightly as he dropped her to the bed and it was only when he was hovering over her on his bed did his eyes leave hers to take in her beautiful body that had somehow disrobed itself of its other garments.

"John..."

At the sound of his name moaned from her lips, he was lost in her once more, discovering her body in a flurry of hands and lips and touches soft and loving, probing and passionate as her mewls of desirous delight flooded his senses. She surrounded him as he slid into her, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as they moved with gracious fluidity to a timeless dance, embedded deep in their very core.

There was no room for regret; that would come later. Right then, she was his and his alone.

As they lay silently side by side, hours later, he glanced over at her and saw a sad smile gracing her features. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, his fingers itching to brush the tendrils of hair from her shoulder. She turned to him slowly, her face unreadable yet undeniably sad.

"Teyla..." He faltered again and pursed his lips as his fingers reached out to trace her collar bone. She didn't pull away from his touch and he was glad. He'd never been good with words. "These things happen... people die. It wasn't your fault."

She closed her eyes, pulled her lips between her teeth and he wanted to kick himself for paining her so.

"But he was just a baby..." A tear slid out of her eye and traced a slow track down her temple to her hairline and he caught it with his lips before it disappeared. "My people... they will think..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

He shook his head vehemently and she opened her eyes to stare into his.

"It wasn't. Your. Fault. Okay? You're people do not blame you; they can't. It's not logical and it's not right for them to. They trust you, just like you should trust them. You have to believe me when I tell you this because you know I would never lie to you. Yes, it's sad and it feels like your world is collapsing in on you but it will get easier for you. You'll wake up one day and it won't hurt as much as it did the day before. It's a slow process, Teyla... It'll hurt tomorrow, it'll hurt in fifty years time when you have grand kids running around but one day it'll be manageable." When he stopped talking, she was staring at him in awe. He looked down sheepishly, wondering to himself where the words had come from. "Sorry."

She didn't reply with words; instead her hands snaked up to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, tender and loving and full of promise.

His mind tells him that when he wakes up in the morning, she'll be gone and he has to be okay with that. It thinks that maybe one day they'll speak about this night and he'll be okay with that when they do. It also tells him that maybe one day, he'll murmur the words that are on the tip of his tongue and they'll both be okay with that.

It tells him that in a few hours, she'll go back to Kanan and he has to be okay with that too.

But as he is moving inside of her again, it rests easy knowing that when she needed someone, she came to him.

And, in that moment, that's enough.


End file.
